Page 39 of One Bad Knight

“What are you talking about?” I glared at him with haughty disdain.

Gatsby’s hand reached under my dress, his fingers instantly seeking the heat between my thighs. I gasped, shocked at the feel of his fingers hooking aside my panties and pushing up into me with no preamble. But I was ready for him. My traitorous body was always ready when he was nearby.

His action stunned me into silence, but a needy moan slipped out of me as liquid raced to meet his fingers.

“You want to punish me because I don’t love you? Because I willneverlove you?” His fingers pumped inside me, sending shockwaves through me.

Though I would never admit it, he instantly claimed my body and we both knew it. Again, the part of me that was sick and tired of being treated like a porcelain doll exalted in the way he took me.

“If you don’t love me, why do you care?” My words came out husky. It was so damn hard to focus. Pride was the only thing that kept me from bucking against his hand to ease the ache inside me. God, I wanted him deeper, harder. I wanted to prove him wrong, make him need me, love me. The way that I loved him. Or at the least, the idea of him, for all these years.

He obliged my unvoiced need, pushing into me deeper as his lips drew even with my ear and said, “Just because I can’t love you doesn’t mean I’ll let anyone else touch you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said, the last word coming out as a squeak as he curled his fingers, hitting a spot that struck me dumb. Then he removed them, staring me dead in the eye, those sharp gray eyes pinning me in place as he sucked the glistening fingers that had just been inside of me.

My first instincts were right. This was a dangerous man. He was supposed to protect me from the demons, but who would protect me from him?

Spreading his fingers into a vee, he licked between them in the most salacious, panty-melting way, without breaking eye contact. “As long as I’m here, you’re mine, princess. You got that? No one else can touch you. If you let any of these idiots touch you again, I’ll fucking kill them.”

“You wouldn’t,” I breathed.

“Princess”—he leaned in until we were breathing the same breath—“what exactly do you think the Order of Luxis had me do for them?”

A wash of cold went through my heated body.

“I was their assassin,” he said with a cruel smile. “Believe me when I say I won’t hesitate to cut that guy’s fingers off the next time I see them touch even your elbow.”

My booze-soaked brain skirted around the assassin part, unable to process that bit, and went straight for his vulnerable parts. “You’re jealous,” I said, lips curling into a smile.

His dark grin faded. He pressed more roughly against my body. He pulled down the top of my dress. It had bra pads sewn in, so when he yanked down the top of my dress, cool air slapped against my bare nipples. They drew into tight buds.

Gatsby’s warm tongue instantly found one aching peak, fueling my desire and giving me relief at the same time. His warm, rough hand squeezed and pinched at the other.

Voices neared, even as Gatsby laved his tongue against my bare breasts in a punishing, hungry fashion.

“Omg, did you see how drunk Kelly is?”

“Do you really think she’s going to go home with her ex, again?”

Panic shot through me. The bathroom was around the corner, and the girls could easily take a wrong turn and find us in the back corner, Gatsby’s face buried in my naked chest. I tried to push him back, but he remained unmoved.

At the same time as I feared being found, the adrenaline fueled my desire, making me more desperate for his touch. Gatsby nipped one of my peaks and I bucked and moaned. I pulled at his hair to try and force him back up my body.

“Kelly is totally going home with him. She’s addicted to that toxic asshat.”

Just before they rounded the corner, Gatsby stood up, covering my body with his own. His warm hand still covered my bare breast as he made intent eye contact with me. He knew exactly what he was doing. Taking control away from me to prove a point.

“Oh, it’s over here,” the other girl said, ignoring us and redirecting them to where the bathroom was.

“You want me to fuck you? Right here?” Gatsby asked, curling his tongue behind his teeth.

I glared up at him, feeling far too much like his plaything, and even worse, liking it. “Take me home. Right now,” I said, angrily pulling up my dress.

His brow furrowed.

“I’m not playing this game, Gatsby. You say if anyone touches me, you’ll kill them? Well, in this club, with the crush of people, you’ll have to kill a lot of them. So you might as well take me home right now.” Setting my hands on his firm chest, I pushed him away, but not before I added in my most imperious tone, “And fuck me until neither of us can stand.”

We wasted zero time. I only waved at Viet from across the club to let her know I was leaving. She didn’t seem surprised. Gatsby drove us back to my house. We barely made it up the stairs to my room before we were both naked. Gatsby began to kneel before me, prepared to pleasure me with his mouth, but I yanked him back up by the hair. I was more than ready.